


life is for livin'

by HeavyHeartstrings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, F/F, M/M, Post-Game, Romance, Some angst, paired ending, together till we die together energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyHeartstrings/pseuds/HeavyHeartstrings
Summary: Felix gets a visitor shortly after the war.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

Felix’s hand lifts from the final line of the letter and he allows himself a moment’s rest, which is merely the time between refilling the ink of his pen and putting the freshly coated nib on the next set of papers.

Goddess, the paperwork is something Felix has already not taken a liking too. It hasn’t been that long since his return from the war’s end and yet, he finds a majority of his time each day being spent on this frivolous paperwork. Had he been someone else, he might have rejected the unreasonably large stack much earlier and assigned someone else to take care of it. But if there’s one thing about a Fraldarius, it’s that they take pride in their work and get the job done. While this is the kind of work he hates, he knows it’s important as his duty as Lord. This is the tip of the iceberg of what's needed if the Kingdom, let alone Fodlan is to ever be fully restored.

After the last thought crosses his mind, he gets a sour look on his face and pauses between words to glare at the parchment like it was somehow at fault.

“I’m starting to think like that fool,” he mutters to himself as he begins scribbling away again to take his mind off such a thought. It’s hard to though, when he’s sitting in the very chair and desk his father used to work in. Maybe he should start using a different room from now on.

Knocking interrupts him sometime later when the candle sitting next to him is much smaller and Felix would be lying if he said he didn’t want the distraction. Though his eyes and hand never leave the paper, he calls out a quick order for the visitor to enter.

He hears the quiet click of the door opening behind him and Felix still doesn’t bother looking towards the doorway. When the person doesn’t speak after entering, Felix does.

“What is it?” He asks with no hint of politeness.

There’s a small snicker and the sound makes Felix’s spine straighten on instinct, his hand stopping abruptly and clenching the pen.

“Is that really how you address your servants?” The all-too-familiar voice asks.

And that’s what finally causes Felix to whip his head to the side, only to see Sylvain standing contently in the open doorway holding a small plate with a cup of hot tea atop. The redhead is giving him a big grin, waiting for him to say something.

“What are you doing here?” Felix asks skeptically, his dark eyes narrowing.

Sylvain releases an amused exhale, shaking his head and stepping forward towards him. “Well, it’s good to see you too dear.” He teases. Felix’s eyes follow him as he approaches, lips pressing into a thin line and staring at Sylvain setting the cup of tea down on his desk. The redhead is bundled up in a dark cloak, removing his gloves and stuffing them in his pockets. Within seconds, Felix smells the scent of pine and looks up to meet Sylvain’s smile.

“Almyrian Pine Needles, just how you like it.” Sylvain answers for him, leaning against the desk.

Felix looks down at the tea, watching the steam wisping from the hot drink. He wonders if Sylvain made this for him. He can picture the redhead back in the kitchen brewing the tea while his servants fluster over such an unorthodox act. Then his eyes drift up again to meet Sylvain’s, and he still can’t help feeling off-put.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Felix states.

This gets a small sigh from Sylvain, then redhead crossing his arms over his chest. “Really? The first time I’ve seen you after the war and this is how you welcome me?”

“We were going to see each other next week at the boar’s coronation,” Felix points out easily. A small part of his head says he isn’t really opposed to seeing Sylvain a little earlier than that. He ignores it as he continues. “And considering that you showed up to Fraldarius territory unannounced in the middle of the night, I can interrogate you as I please.”

“Oooh, I kinda like it when you talk all Lord-like,” Sylvain drawls with a wink, lowering his arms at his side as Felix rolls his eyes and doesn't address the instinctive flirting from his friend. He picks up his tea and takes a sip while Sylvain turns around and begins walking towards the large window across the room. Felix watches him pause in front of the open night sky, staring up at the stars and resting his hands on the sill.

He supposes it doesn’t truly matter _why_ Sylvain has come to see him. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, fine by Felix. However, having years of dealing with Sylvain under his belt, he knows that’s not quite the end of it. Obviously Sylvain wants to talk to him about something. He expects Felix to work for it, he supposes. It’s one of the redhead’s annoying little mind games, but Felix would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. This is by far the most interesting thing to happen in the castle since his return. How pitiful.

Under the circumstances, he wonders briefly if Sylvain had some kind of a fight with his father and decided to come to see Felix for a few days to cool off. It seemed like a possibility with their rocky relationship that Felix has always known about, behind the fake smiles and script-like words.

“If you’re not going to spit it out, I’m getting back to my work.” The darker-haired man states simply, reaching for his pen again. He does it on purpose.

Another sigh from Sylvain. “You really don’t make things fun at all, you know?” He asks.

Felix’s eyes dart to the back of Sylvain’s head and the corner of his mouth turns up. “Only for you.” He retorts.

The redhead turns around to face him again, hands on his hips and smiling. “I’m flattered, really.” Sylvain says dryly, walking back towards him and snatching the pen quickly from Felix. Felix’s glare becomes more intense.

“What are you up doing paperwork this late anyway?" Sylvain asks toying with the quill. "I would have expected you in the training yard rather than here.”

“Hmph.” Felix responds, crossing his arms and looking to the side. “Not like I have much of a choice these days.” He points out.

A quick look of discomfort appears on Sylvain’s face before he uses his free hand to pick the tea up and gesture it towards Felix. “Still, you shouldn’t be overworking yourself like this.”

He accepts the tea cup with a huff. “Coming from you, that’s rich.” He murmurs into the cup before sipping again. Sylvain definitely brewed this himself, he concludes. Felix doesn’t quiet know how, but whenever Sylvain made him tea at the Monastery it always tasted better compared to anyone else (himself included). Which didn’t make much sense to him then and still doesn't, because what exactly could he be doing differently than everyone else? There’s only so many ways one can make tea.

“Aw, you know I can be useful when necessary.” Sylvain eases with another wink. Felix pretends like he didn’t notice and takes another sip of his tea.

“That’s about the extent of your use unfortunately.”

Sylvain laughs at that. Felix hides his smile in his tea and sets the cup back down when Sylvain starts walking around his father’s old study and stares at some books lined up against a stacked shelf. Felix supposes he should be calling it his study, but it doesn’t feel right.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk. Y’know, get your holed-up self out into some fresh air,” Sylvain suggests. Felix gives him a look and the redhead seems to feel it, turning his head to grin at him. “One of the servants told me. Said you haven’t left the castle in a few days.”

Felix opens his mouth to protest such an idea, but as he reflects on his actions over said few days, he cannot say that the servant’s words were untrue. Sylvain raises an eyebrow at his parted lips, to which Felix shuts his mouth quickly and grumbles something the redhead doesn’t quite make out.

“You really shouldn’t be doing this much-“ Sylvain starts.

“Spare me the lecture and I’ll go on your stupid walk.” Felix interrupts, standing from his seat and resisting a grunt of discomfort at the tightness in his legs. He's been sitting for several hours without movement, so it’s to be expected. It also proves Sylvain’s point, which the dark-haired man doesn’t plan to acknowledge.

Sylvain nods, agreeing to the terms and waiting for Felix to leave before trailing behind him. Felix walks with a bit of stiffness, but his muscles start adjusting and coming out of their cramped state easily. Ugh, he feels like an old man right now, the way his body is behaving so sluggishly.

The halls are dead quiet at this hour, most if not all of the servants asleep. The sound of the pair of their footsteps seems to be the only source of noise to be noticed. Sylvain walks close enough that his shoulder almost touches Felix and the younger man reflects on how he’d never allow anyone else to stand so close like this. 

Stupid. Why is he entertaining ideas like this? He must be exhausted, his mind running off on its own accord like this. Or maybe it’s easier to write it off like that.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like the war is over,” Sylvain’s voice cuts through his thoughts, grabbing Felix’s attention. There’s a tone in it that sounds out-of-touch, a quality Felix cannot say he’s heard before. Or maybe in a really long time. “I know we all fought and witnessed the victory, but…” the redhead trails off.

“It’s still fresh,” Felix says simply. “It’s been less than a month since the last battle,” he points out. Felix understands the feeling Sylvain speaks of; even though life recently has been the complete opposite of what it was like in battle, there is still a lingering feeling of unsettlement. Maybe it’s a lack of de-escalation from war into normal life.

“I hope it’s better after the coronation,” Sylvain continues. “Maybe having some structure to the chaos will help.”

In Felix’s experiences, he would tend to disagree. But he knows the boar is different and with the Professor by his side, Fodlan might have a future after all.

“Have you ever thought of applying that to your own life?” Felix asks, mainly as a light-hearted jab.

Sylvain takes it as a serious question. “At times. Seems near impossible though,” he answers truthfully.

Felix scoffs lightly, no venom in his tone when he speaks. “It is.”

* * *

They walk around the outside of the castle, staying on a path but going no where in particular. The fresh air is something he didn’t know he needed until he's breathing it in. Even though it’s a cool Spring night, Felix appreciates getting out of the castle. He finds himself speaking more than he had done in days, listening even more so. Sylvain tells him about his life back in Gautier territory and how he feels oddly out of place back home. Felix nods to himself as he listens. Maybe Sylvain is having more trouble adjusting to life after the war than he thought.

But all in all when the redhead speaks he seems fine, in fact rather pleased. He’s just as social and unfortunately for Felix, just as flirtatious as always. Yet, Felix keeps his suspicions in the forefront of his mind, wondering what this surprise visit is all about.

“One of the guards didn’t recognize me when I was riding in. He even raised his weapon and everything,” Sylvain mentions to him offhandedly while they walk.

“What?” Felix asks with furrowed eyebrows. “Which one?”

“Hey, there’s no way I’m snitching!” Sylvain protests lightly. “Plus, it was no big deal. Kind of funny actually,” he insists.

“Yea, funny until you get stabbed by one of the guards for attempted trespassing.” Felix argues back dryly.

“Oh, it wouldn’t have come to that.” Sylvain eases, waving a hand. “I’m flattered you care so much though, really.”

“On second thought, maybe I should order all the guards to be on watch for a redheaded idiot.”

“Here we go again with the Lord talk, hm?” Sylvain asks and bumps Felix’s shoulder with his own lightly. “Careful, you’ll make me blush.”

“Would you cut that out?” Felix snaps at him, his own face reddening. He’s thankful for the darkness around them, shielding Sylvain from observing. “Honestly, you’re as bad as a bitch in heat.”

“So, what? You want me to _lie_ to you and say I don’t like when you talk like that?” Sylvain asks like Felix is the weird one.

The dark-haired man sighs frustratedly, cheeks still feeling rather warm even in the crisp, night air. “I’d rather you not say it at all.” He murmurs.

“No can do I’m afraid,” Sylvain says, wrapping an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Honestly is a guy’s best policy.”

Felix can only wonder if any of Sylvain’s flirtatious comments are truly honest.

“Whatever,” he responds, letting the arm stay for a few seconds before shrugging it off lightly. Again, his mind points out the fact that he would never let anyone act like this with him without giving out a black eye in return. But…this is Sylvain. The man who held him as a child when he came crying to the older boy about silly things he can’t bother to remember now. The man who stayed by his side even as life got crazy and unpredictable. He isn’t just anyone.

Therein lies an issue that Felix has taken hold of. Sylvain _isn’t_ just anyone. In fact, there probably isn’t anyone who could come close to resembling the type of relationship they have.

Felix almost scoffs aloud at himself for entertaining these thoughts.

Before the war ended there was no time to think of things like this. Well, if Felix is honest with himself there were moments where the thought would cross his mind. The thought of him and Sylvain together. Not long enough to indulge himself, maybe as a way of protecting himself from deluded ideas that were far from reach. He of course, did this subconsciously because Felix is not introspective enough to see himself or his actions in that way. He kept himself on track by giving all of his efforts and attention towards the war and for the most part, it worked.

But now, there's nothing but a stack of paper waiting for him in his father's study and thoughts of him and Sylvain seem to be all Felix can produce in this moment. It’s annoying, especially since he can’t block them.

“Have you seen anyone else since coming home?” Sylvain asks. There’s that weird tone again that Felix caught earlier.

“No, but Lysithea had a cake sent to me sometime last week,” Felix answers, recalling on the small box that was delivered to him by one of his servants. It was a new recipe she discovered. To date, it’s his favourite.

Sylvain makes a humming sound. “And you sent her something nice back in return?” He asks.

Felix gives him a strange look, with one of his eyebrows arched. “No, why would I do that?”

The redhead lowers his eyebrows slowly, appearing lost in thought a moment. Then, he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Well, usually if a pretty girl gives you a gift, you reciprocate to show you care.”

Felix is unimpressed now, rolling his eyes. “Unlike you, I don’t try to seduce every woman who pays me attention.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Sylvain protests. “When was the last time I seduced someone?”

“Why would I know that? I don’t pay attention to your string of conquests,” Felix bites back harsher than it was supposed to come out.

There’s a small silence before Sylvain responds. “Well, if you _were_ , you would say that it’s been months. Maybe even a year!” He exclaims, like Felix should be proud or something along those lines.

Instead, he’s still annoyed. Maybe more now. “I’m supposed to believe that? I know I heard you flirting back at the Monastery.”

“Aha! So you do pay attention,” Sylvain exclaims, snapping his fingers at Felix, who exhales quietly, shaking his head back and forth. Stupid redhead.

“But the flirting is harmless, I never pursued anyone. I swear on the Goddess herself!” Sylvain continues.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to convince me,” Felix says.

Sylvain is quiet for a couple of seconds. Felix spares him a glance, seeing the taller man’s eyes fixated on the path they’re walking on. He’s thinking again.

“I guess I realized that chasing women isn’t as great as it used to be. Maybe it never was great.” Sylvain says quietly.

“Wow, good for you.” Felix replies flatly.

“Aw, come on Felix! I’m being serious here,” Sylvain groans back. “Look, it’s not like I don’t love seeing a beauty strolling on by-“ he pauses when Felix shoots him a glare, backtracking. “I just… I know that I’ll never get anything out of those…what did you call it, ‘conquests’?” He asks, bringing a hand to his mouth in thought. “Sounds a little harsh.”

Felix is fairly heated at this point, having felt a lot of unwarranted emotions flare up inside of him all of a sudden with all this talk of Sylvain’s behaviour in the past. He knows Sylvain is opening up to him, which is a good thing. Or, it should have been, but Felix feels like he’s missing something. Sylvain has come to this new way of thinking and… so what? This doesn’t really mean anything.

“Don’t pretend like your actions weren’t harsh,” Felix states. He can practically feel Sylvain stiffening as he walks. “But it doesn’t matter anymore if you really are different now.”

Sylvain’s voice is calm, yet confident when he responds quietly. “I am. Really.”

Felix actually believes him.

* * *

They return to the castle after some more chatting and Felix knows its long past midnight. He can feel it in his body, his muscles ready to relax against his bed for some much-needed rest. His eyelids feel heavier each time he blinks them and Felix is eager to get back to his room and throw himself into his mattress for even just a small sleep.

But as he’s bidding a goodnight to Sylvain after telling him what room the redhead can stay in for the night, he catches an uncertain look in the older man’s eyes. It makes him pause, observing Sylvain silently.

“Are you tired?” Felix asks him.

“Uh, not really,” Sylvain says. “But obviously you are, so-“

“Come on,” Felix interrupts turning back to start towards his quarters.

“No, Felix you should sleep!” Sylvain calls from behind him.

“Shut up and follow me!” He bites back.

He hears Sylvain’s steps catching up with him from behind seconds after.

* * *

He stops by the kitchen to pick some things up.

“More tea?” Sylvain asks him, sitting atop one of the middle counters while Felix opens a pantry. He pulls out a dark bottle and sets it down on the counter with a light tap.

“Not quite.”

Sylvain grins, jumping down from the counter. “ _Lord Fraldarius_ you sly fox,”

Felix is thankful his back is to Sylvain when that comment is made because he feels warmth creeping not only his cheeks this time, but all the way back to his ears. Goddess, he would never have guessed in a thousand years that Sylvain could dangle such taunting forbidden fruit right over his head simply by the way he speaks his name. As he grips the neck of the bottle, he wonders if this is a smart direction to head in.

Sylvain has already rummaged through the kitchen to produce two wine cups, and Felix was the one who brought them here after all, so he brushes his concern off and they head back to his room. Sylvain remains quiet the entire way there, something Felix doesn’t realize is off most likely because he's tired and the silence is like a little rest. 

As he opens the door to his room, Sylvain finally makes a comment. “Wow, I can’t remember the last time I was in here.” He says, walking past Felix holding the door open. The redhead has his eyes set all around the room, fondly taking it in with a smile. Felix can practically see the memories of their childhood playing in Sylvain’s mind.

Felix closes the door and strolls over to the small table by his balcony. He sets the wine bottle down and then turns to glance at Sylvain again. He’s staring at Felix strangely, eyes looking somewhat surprised.

“Something wrong?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. This is getting ridiculous; the way Sylvain is acting. Felix’s patience is thin enough as it is.

Sylvain blinks. “No,” he corrects himself, walking towards the table to set down the cups. “I’ll pour.” Sylvain says, looking pointedly at the table as he grasps the bottle to uncork it.

Felix stares at the man with a keen expression, eyes narrowed. What the hell is going on with him and why is he acting so odd? The wine ought to loosen his tongue at the very least. He would have to make the man drink quickly so Felix can get to bed at a somewhat reasonable time.

But after a couple drinks and what he tries to gather, Felix is the only one seemingly feeling good and Sylvain has not given him a clue as to why he’s come to visit him out of the blue so late at night. Sylvain keeps looking into his drink for periods of silence between them, wearing that stupidly confused-looking expression.

And blame it on his exhaustion, the wine, or Sylvain’s ability to drive him near-mad with ease, but Felix finally says something after the fifth time Sylvain stares into his drink like it’s going to give him answers he’s seeking. At first this distraction from paperwork was intriguing, now Felix wants to sleep.

“Alright, I’ve danced around this long enough. Why did you come here?” Felix interrogates, taking a gulp of his wine. When he looks at Sylvain, the man’s eyes are locked onto him. Felix can’t get a read on his blank expression.

“Are you already drunk?” The redhead asks, cracking a grin.

And while the answer is _undoubtedly,_ Felix responds simply with an icy gaze paired with a frown. It’s not as if he drinks enough to build a tolerance to the stuff. He wonders if he looks serious at all. “Cut the shit. You came here for a reason, now spit it out.”

Sylvain gives a long sigh and Felix thinks he’s going to say something stupid again just by how dramatic it sounds, but the older man meets his eyes again and speaks quietly. “I don’t think you’ll believe me,” he answers.

“Try me,” Felix replies immediately, setting his cup down.

Sylvain crosses his arms on the table and looks at his cup. Then back to Felix again. “I missed you,” Sylvain says quietly, returning to the cup. One of his hands moves to rub over his mouth. Felix furrows his eyebrows; is he embarrassed?

He doesn’t know what to say at first, and Sylvain spares him a fragment of a glance before his eyes drift to the wine again. He really is nervous, Felix thinks.

“You missed me,” he repeats.

“I know you heard me, Felix.” Sylvain mumbles into his hand.

“I’m still not understanding.”

“What’s there not to understand?” Sylvain asks a little shortly. He’s looking at Felix again, a small frown in place. “I missed you. I had to see you. I came to see you.” He explains, a fingers extending with each point listed.

Felix is taken aback for a moment. He had to? Sylvain can be just as blunt as himself at times. “I…I don’t get why you came now though,” he states. His face is heating up again, dammit. Felix is the one to look away from Sylvain’s dark eyes studying him now. “I already told you we’d see each other at the coronation next week.”

“That’s different,” Sylvain says, tugging Felix’s attention back to him. “We’re going to be surrounded and separated by people for hours on end. I bet the only time we’d be able to talk is during a dance. Plus, I couldn’t wait that long.”

Felix has to look away again, resisting the urge to cover his face when his mind conjures up the idea of them dancing together. The man speaks so easily it could have been unnoticeable had Felix not given the thought any attention. He debates telling Sylvain to shut up and leave. Talking such nonsense. And what’s this about a week being too long? It’s true that a week in Felix’s life these days could be comparable to a month at the Monastery, yet it still sounds so dramatic.

“Okay, so you’re here, now what?” Felix asks with a bit of a bite, on edge. That’s the big question, really. Felix doesn’t have the answer, and he’s not sure Sylvain does either.

Sylvain confirms it when he shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s...” he stops, though his lips remain parted. Felix sees the wheels turning in Sylvain’s mind, searching for a way to piece words together. He gives the redhead time, knowing how hard it can be to say what you want.

Instead of speaking, Sylvain stands up.

“Y’know, it’s nothing I haven’t said already. I’m sounding like a miserable child at this point. You need sleep. Night, Felix.” He declares, stepping away and towards the door.

“Take one more step and I’ll cut you into pieces, Gautier.” Felix comments icily, eyes narrowed down to slits. To part of his surprise, Sylvain freezes in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn around. So Felix stands up, his chair scraping against the ground with an unpleasant sound.

That catches his attention, Sylvain turning slowly and again showing him that annoying, unreadable expression. Felix supposes he should continue.

“You’re shit at lying,” he spits out at first. Then thinks it was in poor taste, so he closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Whatever it is you need to say, you can tell me.” He corrects.

Sylvain is quiet. Felix thinks he’s not going to budge, and has to wonder which of them is more stubborn.

But eventually, he speaks. Well, it’s more like a rushed confession, words tripping over another in a haste. “What good is our promise if I barely see you from now on?” Sylvain bursts out, stepping closer to Felix. Close enough that Felix has to tilt his head up a tiny amount to meet Sylvain’s eyes that are full of worry. He truly looks upset, in a way Felix can’t recall seeing in a long time. It makes him feel uneasy; Sylvain is never the one to get so serious like this and Felix can’t say that he’s particularly good at comforting. But he did just offer to listen.

“I don’t have an answer. Now that the war is over, life goes back to normal for us. We have responsibilities.” Felix says. His words are not entirely true, because there’s parts of Felix that feel as if life is the most normal when his blade is put to use. But he knows peace and endless paperwork and boring meetings are more important than his wants. It annoys him because again he’s sounding like his father.

Sylvain sighs, a big tired one. He turns around and stares at a painting hanging across the wall. “Normal life is terrible. Well, mine is at least.” He corrects. His voice sounds far-off, though he stands a short distance away.

Felix wouldn’t deny that his normal life isn’t far from terrible either. “Is it your father?” Felix probes, finally going for it. It seems the floodgates are about to open.

He watches Sylvain’s shoulders shrugging slowly. “In part. All this talk of the Crest System changing has got him worked up. He thinks Dimitri has still lost part of his mind.” He explains with an amused laugh at the end. It’s fake.

Felix holds back his own comments on the matter, not wanting to let the subject stray.

“Really what it is, is I’m back in the place full of people who don’t care about anything other than the blood in my veins. The first time I went home after the start of the war, I was able to adjust back to life fine. But this time, something’s different,” Sylvain explains, dragging his hand through his hair again. “I can’t deal with it anymore. I’d rather be fighting back in the Valley of Torment again than living there.”

He speaks with a raw pain. There’s another pause and Felix rests a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. The redhead doesn’t turn to him, simply continues speaking. “I don’t want normal life if that’s all it is. It’s soul-sucking.”

His hand grips tighter. “You can stay here as long as you need.” Felix responds on instinct.

Sylvain gives him a small smile, half-forced by the looks of it. “What if I need to stay forever?” He asks.

Felix doesn’t realize he’s joking (blame the wine) and shrugs like he’s deciding between venison or steak for dinner. “Then stay forever.”

He gets that it was a joke after Sylvain’s eyes widen at his response and he turns around to face him. Felix doesn’t think he can back out of this one and his mind is loose enough as it is.

But of course Sylvain tests that. “You don’t mean it.” He insists.

Felix looks at the ground, trying to think of what to say. He exhales through his nose quietly, deciding there’s no sense in trying to plan out the mess that is about to unfold. He might as well be honest.

“Obviously I do, idiot.”

Sylvain gives him a small glance. Then doesn’t say anything else after that and stares off to the side. Felix is left only with his thoughts, which he immediately voices aloud seconds later.

“What do you want then?” Felix can’t help asking.

Sylvain turns around to face him again with a confused expression.

“If normal life is terrible, what life do you want?” Felix elaborates.

The question seems to have caught Sylvain off guard. He’s looking like a wide-eyed animal getting ready to sprint away any moment now, but he closes his eyes and takes a moment to collect himself.

“Does it really matter what I want? Do I have a choice?” Sylvain asks, sounding frail.

Something pits into Felix’s chest without warning. He knows he said something similar earlier, but hearing the words from Sylvain sets him off. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Yes, it matters and yes, you have a choice. Was fighting and suffering the past five years even worth anything if we don’t at least get to _try_ living our lives the way we want to?” He asks, voice raised by the end of it.

That shuts Sylvain up for a few seconds. Just a few. It even shuts himself up. It’s the first time he’s really sounded like himself in awhile.

“I know what I want,” Sylvain says lowly. He’s nervous again.

“Tell me,” Felix urges. “I want to hear.” He says earnestly.

Sylvain tells him. “I want to live by our promise. I want to be with you Felix, till the day we die together.”

Felix blinks, then swallows down nothing but dryness in his throat. There’s no trace of insincerity within Sylvain or his words. That’s what makes his heart beat furiously against his ribs, threatening to crack the bones at any given second.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” He bites back, unable to help it. Chalk it up to his shit ability to process emotions.

He’s glad it doesn’t deter Sylvain, judging by the way the corner of his mouth turns up. “Do you know what you said moments ago about me staying here with you forever?” He returns playfully.

Felix knows his face is hotter than ever. What makes the embarrassment slightly more endurable is the fact that Sylvain’s cheeks are rosy red too.

“Hm, I can’t seem to recall,” Felix says, eyes wandering to the ceiling as if to ponder.

Sylvain reaches for him, settling an arm around his waist. “Well, I’ll tell you. It sounded pretty close to a confession of love.”

Felix relaxes into the touch so easily it could’ve freaked him out. The way Sylvain stares at him gives Felix a newfound excitement. He smirks in response surprisingly enough even though he's just been called out, confidently cocking his head up to stare into Sylvain’s glazed over eyes. “Yea, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He toys back.

Then swiftly in the next moment, Sylvain’s arm pulls him tight and his head tilts so he can press his lips against Felix’s. Felix is once again taken aback, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He immediately feels something pleasurable course all through his body at the contact. He reciprocates into the kiss, balling his fists in Sylvain’s cloak.

They break apart for a moment. “I would like that, a lot actually.” Sylvain gasps out before returning to Felix’s lips.

Another jolt of excitement. Felix hasn’t ever felt such sensations before, but he’s already enjoying it far too much. Sylvain’s tongue starts intertwining with his own. A crack of thrilling stars burst behind his eyes and he inhales sharply through his nose.

It comes a lot easier than he thought it would. After all, Sylvain threw him such a long rope by coming all this way for him, he might as well climb it with no trouble.

He pulls back enough to stare at Sylvain. “I love you,” he says quietly, running a hand up Sylvain’s chest to rest behind his neck.

Sylvain obviously didn't expect him to actually say it. His body tenses and he stares at Felix for a couple of seconds before scooping him into his arms and heading straight towards Felix’s bed with nothing but love on his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya so...i had way too much fun with this and took it to a whole other level. 
> 
> upped the rating for sexy reasons! hope y'all enjoy

Ingrid is the first to realize something is off after the Gautier flags ride into the capital. She stands outside of the castle with a few other knights when the carriage comes to a stop in front of the steps leading up. Margrave Gautier is escorted out of the carriage and the door is closed swiftly behind him. Ingrid suppresses a frown.

Before she can get in a greeting, the man looks her up and down with something akin to disgust in his crow-eyes. “What, the soon-to-be crowned King couldn’t be bothered to greet me himself?” He asks with a sneer in his tone that Ingrid has never been able to fully forget no matter how hard she tries.

She hears one of the guards stiffening behind her. “Margrave, it’s a pleasure to see you after so long. His Highness is in a counsellors meeting at the moment. I’m sure he’d be pleased to chat afterwards,” she eases with a forced niceness and a tight smile.

The man stares at her for a couple of seconds in silence. Ingrid gets that fearful feeling in her chest like she’s eight again and witnessing one of the Gautier sons getting screamed at for disobeying his orders. Funny, she can lead a battalion in the sky against just about any enemy without the bat of an eye, but standing under this man’s judgemental stare gives her an unsettled feeling. All she hopes is that it doesn’t show through.

“I should like that. It’s time someone talk some sense into that deluded mind.” The Margrave states condescendingly.

Ingrid tries really hard not to falter after that one. She even notices a couple of Gautier knights looking uncomfortable with the man’s words. “Come, until then we will get you situated in your quarters.” She attempts again. The niceness has slipped from her tone unfortunately. “I’m sure you’ve had a long trip.”

The man simply looks passed her shoulder as if she’s not there and begins walking up the stairs of the castle; his long, black robes trailing behind him. Ingrid turns and watches the back of the Margrave's head with a bitter sharpness in her eyes now that his back is to her. She gives instruction to the rider where to park the carriage and starts up the stairs behind.

To her dismay, the man won’t shut up as they ascend the stairs. “Come now, dear Ingrid. It would be foolish to deny that battle has taken a toll on His Highness’s mind, don’t you agree?” He edges.

“Your concern is flattering Margrave; however, Prince Dimitri is healthier than ever,” she insists, her false-polite tone back as she follows up the steps a distance behind.

The man barks out a harsh laugh to which Ingrid glares again. “When did you become a jester? I don’t recall you sounding so funny before.” The man taunts.

Ingrid is clenching and unclenching one of her hands by her side now, mentally counting through each inhale and exhale. She closes her eyes for a moment, saying nothing and collecting herself.

She speaks up again when they’re inside of the castle doors, trying to diffuse the tension. “Margrave, I noticed Sylvain isn’t with you. Is he riding in by himself?” She asks.

That's when Margrave Gautier takes her off guard, turning sharply to her and scowling. “Do not test me, girl. I know you’re somehow involved in all of this lunacy,” he bites back, a sudden rage spewing from him.

A confused expression comes to her face and Ingrid’s mouth is open for a second as she tries to find a way to respond without calling the man an asshole or getting violent.

“Ah, Margrave Gautier you’ve arrived,” Dimitri’s voice calls far from across the room. They and the knights turn to look at the Prince, who is stepping towards them down the large staircase in the front hall with Dedue following close behind. Ingrid couldn’t have been more thankful for his timing, but she also knows that Dimitri’s choice to enter could become a regret very shortly.

“My, if it isn’t the Prince,” the Margrave replies flatly, keeping his eyes on the man at the bottom of the stairs. He doesn’t meet Dimitri halfway, simply staring at the Prince with a bored expression as he approaches. Another wave of anger floods Ingrid’s blood and she sees that Dedue’s eyebrows are slanted downward at the blatant disrespect. To top it all off, the man barely bows his head when Dimitri comes to a stop in front of him.

“I hope travels were good to you Margrave. Please, allow me to have you shown to your quarters,” Dimitri speaks calmly, nodding to a few servants nearby. They begin collecting the Margrave’s belongings from the Gautier servants and walking towards the east hall.

“I should like that much Your Highness,” Margrave Gautier says with a little less hostility in his tone. Still, Ingrid is trying not to sneer while he talks. “Perhaps after I’ve settled in we could have tea in the gardens. It has been some time, after all.” He suggests. Ingrid nearly rolls her eyes.

“I’m afraid it will have to wait until after dinner Margrave. My afternoon is schedules with meetings, but perhaps we could have tea on the courtyard balcony this evening,” Dmitri suggests.

Ingrid holds her breath, waiting for the snappy comment in return, but Dedue’s rigid gaze seems to do enough to keep the Margrave’s mouth shut for the time being. His eyes almost say, _I dare you_ to the older man and if the Margrave has even half a brain, he would not dare.

“That would be most appreciated Your Highness. If I may,” he says much quieter, gaze in the direction of the servants walking off.

The Prince nods. “Of course.”

And with that, Margrave Gautier shuffles away in his long robes off towards the east hall with his knights tailing him in tow. The three remain standing where they are, Dedue and Ingrid holding an unimpressed expression, whereas Dimitri remains rather unbothered.

“Your Highness, I noticed Sylvain was not present in the Gautier arrival.” Dedue comments.

Dimitri gives a thoughtful hum, bringing his hand to his mouth for a moment. “Yes, I noticed that too. I don’t recall him saying he wasn’t coming.”

“Margrave Gautier doesn’t seem to know either. He wasn’t impressed when I mentioned Sylvain’s absence.” Ingrid adds.

“If it was anyone else I might be concerned, but I cannot help wondering if he’s somewhere in the city streets fooling around right about now.” Dimitri explains with a small sigh at the end. “If he doesn’t arrive tonight, I’ll send some knights out to look for him.”

Ingrid resists a frown. The way Margrave Gautier spoke of his son didn’t seem to allude towards Sylvain’s usual inappropriate behaviour. But who knows after all, she wouldn't put it past Sylvain to do such a thing. The whole reason everyone is gathering in Fhirdiad is to celebrate and Sylvain certainly does have his own way of celebrating.

Truthfully, she could be reading into this too much. Dropping it for the time being, Ingrid nods and excuses herself before resuming about her routine in the castle, making her way to the training guards for daily practice with Ashe before sky patrol.

* * *

She gets back later than normal from duty. While flying over a small village, a group of people waved her and the other Pegasus Knights down. They told her there had been sightings of a giant Hawk flying around over the past couple nights and after exploring a nearby mountain peak the villagers directed them in, they were spotted and attacked by two of the creatures. Ingrid broke one of her favourite spears in the process of defeating the birds, but it was a good battle and the new trainees got some fighting experience out of it without getting hurt.

After removing the armor from her Pegasus, feeding and settling her into the stable for the evening, Ingrid makes her way to the dining hall. When she enters, the aroma of delicious food hits her and she sees dinner is already served to the large tables full of people from all over Fodlan. Dorothea is the first to catch her sight from a nearby table and the brunette smiles at her sweetly, waving a hand. She returns the gesture, waving and walking up to the front of the room to see Dimitri. He sits at a large, wooden table that faces her horizontally. The rest of the seats are occupied by Lords of varying regions across the Kingdom and some from the Alliance, as well as the Professor…er newly appointed Archbishop. She catches Margrave Gautier giving her a grim expression as she approaches and ignores it.

Dimitri sees her stepping forward and pauses in his conversation with Byleth. “Ingrid, you’re later than usual. Did something hold you up?” He asks curiously.

She bows her head politely. “Yes, Your Highness. We received word of a Hawk flying over a village. After investigating the area, we found there to be two living on the mountain. We took care of them with ease.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Dimitri tells her. His eyes flick over her shoulder for a moment. “Now go eat and catch up with friends. It seems they're eager to see you,” he adds with a bit of an upward curl of his mouth. Ingrid raises an eyebrow before turning around and seeing Dorothea now standing from her table and making her way towards them. Ingrid meets her halfway, being pulled into a tight hug by the Gremory.

“Oh, my Ingrid. Still looking beautiful as ever I see,” she says after pulling away, leaving a hand on her shoulder.

Ingrid suppresses a blush. “You say that like we’ve been apart for years.” She says timidly.

Dorothea giggles, sliding her arm around Ingrid’s shoulder and steering them towards the table she was sitting in. “I’ll tell you, it does feel like it’s been awhile. I’m glad to see you.” She coos. Ingrid agrees with her.

They share a meal with the others at the table and it isn’t until near the end of it that Ingrid allows herself to observe the Lords sitting at the head of the room at the large table again. When she realizes who is missing, she blinks at the table a couple of times and then looks to Ashe sitting further down the table who is chatting with Annette. He looks at her after catching her staring and raises his head in question.

“Has Felix not arrive yet? I don’t see him or any Fraldarius soldiers around,” she asks, feeling a little bad that it took her this long to realize.

“Hm? No, I think I heard that Felix would be arriving late this evening,” Ashe answers.

“Leave it to that prickly Lord to wait till the last minute to arrive to a celebration,” Dorothea teases next to her, handing her unfinished plate of cake to Ingrid. The blonde accepts it with a nod of thanks, happy to clear her plate for her.

“Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” She jokes, laughing and taking a bite of the cake.

Still, she can’t help wondering. Something seems off.

* * *

The next morning is more hectic than ever. The coronation ceremony itself is short, but the events taking place for the rest of the day are sure to make the ordeal a long one. Not that Ingrid minds in the slightest, watching Dimitri getting crowned and feeling nothing but an encompassing relief. It’s so long overdue, but she’s happy the time is finally here. Everyone around seems to feel that way, a buzzing of happiness seemingly radiating from the crowd.

It’s mid-afternoon in the courtyards when Ingrid finally sees them. Sylvain is chatting with Bernadetta. Felix is nearby sitting at a table and sampling cakes with Lysithea.

“So, were you two planning on saying hello to me at some point or not?” She says as she approaches. Their attention turns to her and Sylvain is the first to say something.

“Ingrid!” He says, excusing himself from Bernadetta and pulling her into a hug. She sees Felix standing to come over as well. After breaking apart from Sylvain, Felix stares at her with a placid expression and nods at her, to which she rolls her eyes, stepping forward and giving him a hug.

“I see you’ve settled in the castle,” Felix says to her when she pulls back, nodding at her sword resting on her belt.

She shrugs casually. “It’s been busy. Lots of restoration and small squabbles to deal with.”

Sylvain puts his hands on his hips. “Come on, we all know how bad you’ve wanted to become a knight,” he encourages. “Tell us what you really think.”

Ingrid smiles and lets out an amused laugh. “Okay, it’s great. I couldn’t be happier,” she admits.

“Felix!” Lysithea calls eagerly from behind them. “This one’s got coffee and dark chocolate mixed together!” She exclaims, holding up a plate with a new slice of cake on top.

Felix turns around looking rather intrigued and Ingrid laughs again. “Go on, join her. We’ll have more time to talk later today.” She says.

He nods and returns to his desserts. Ingrid looks to Sylvain next, who is staring at Felix and Lysithea with a small smile. She observes him a moment, then looks at the two and wonders what he’s thinking.

“Hey,” she begins, a more serious tone in her voice that catches Sylvain’s attention. “I wanted to ask you about-“

“Pardon my interruption, Lord Gautier, Lady Galatea.” A soldier wearing Sylvain’s family armor says, approaching. The two of them turn to stare at the man, wearing confused expressions.

“Margrave Gautier has requested your presence in the dining hall,” the guard explains, looking at Sylvain. “He says it is of utmost importance.”

Ingrid turns her head back to Sylvain, who has a sudden blank look on his face. “The utmost importance, you say?” He asks with a hint of teasing. Sylvain gives Ingrid a wink, though it seems forced. “I’d better see to that then. I’ll catch you later Ingrid,” Sylvain says with a wave, following after the soldier.

She turns to watch him walk away and as she does, catches Felix staring at Sylvain’s retreating form with a forkful of cake in front of his mouth. Felix catches her observing him seconds later and takes the bite, breaking eye contact and saying something quietly to Lysithea. Ingrid purses her lips together, that familiar unsettled feeling forming in her gut just like yesterday.

“Ingrid?” Bernadetta’s cautious voice chimes next to her. “Is everything okay?”

She looks toward the timid girl with a smile. “Absolutely. I haven’t had the chance to speak with you much since you arrived Bernadetta, how have you been?”

* * *

Felix stares at Sylvain from across the dining hall, completely unbeknownst to the redhead who is chatting happily with the others at the crowded table. Sitting at the head table with the King, the Archbishop and all the other Lords leaves Felix absolutely disinterested in speaking to anyone. He’s (somewhat) thankful he’s got Dimitri on his right side and Byleth on the opposite side of the King, instead of having to sit with complete strangers. That doesn’t mean he’s in the mood for idle chatter though.

Margrave Gautier sits three seats down from him and Felix can practically feel his eyes boring into him throughout dinner. He wants to call the old man out or maybe even give some icy looks in return, but knows that it would be a stupid thing to do right now in front of everyone. He wonders what Sylvain and his father talked about earlier, though he has a fairly good guess as to what it could be.

“I apologize for all this Felix,” Dimitri says quietly to him midway through their meal, gesturing his hand over the table. “I’m sure you’d much rather be eating with everyone else down there.”

They stare at their group of friends chatting amicably and laughing every now and then. Felix watches for a moment, then his eyes drift down to his plate and he spikes a piece of meat on his fork.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just a meal,” he says, taking a bite.

There’s a pause before Dimitri responds. “It seems your gaze keeps travelling to their table.”

Felix glares at the blond for being called out. “I can tell you’re not enjoying this either,” Felix mentions after chewing. He swallows the food down and reaches for his wine cup. “You’re making that stupid expression as always when you eat.”

Dimitri huffs a quiet laugh. “I must admit, I’m feeling rather overwhelmed right now and it’s drained my appetite.”

Felix shoots him a side glance, this time without as much hostility and gulps some wine down. “This isn’t the part to be overwhelmed by,” He points out. This in just the easy stuff; the social gatherings, the polite small-talk and pleasantries. Maybe not for someone like himself, but Dimitri has always been good with people.

“Yes, you’re right. I suppose I am just scared of the future and what’s to come. Of whether I’ll be a fit ruler or not.” The King explains quietly.

“Enough of that garbage. Do you really expect me to sit here and stroke your ego?” Felix growls out, taking another bite of food. He forces himself to look at the opposite side of the room when his gaze trails back to Sylvain. They haven’t had a chance to speak since Sylvain’s father requested his presence in the early afternoon. He can’t stop thinking about it.

“What?” Dimitri asks, clearly taken aback from the surprise in his tone. “No, of course not.”

“Then don’t spew nonsense. You have people all around you who are more than willing to help when you need it,” Felix returns, uninterestedly taking the other people in the room in to distract himself. He spots Lindhart and Caspar arguing playfully at a table together. Ferdinand and Hilda are loud and boisterous at another, Hilda latched onto Ferdinand’s arm with a cheerful grin. Even Seteth and Manuela are chatting together, Seteth looking more at ease than Felix has even seen before. Staring at the couples makes a pit form in his stomach, so he looks at his plate.

“You’re right. I apologize, I’m getting ahead of myself,” Dimitri says. He changes topics quickly. “I meant to ask, did you and Sylvain travel together? I don’t recall seeing him with his father when the Margrave arrived.”

Felix almost chokes mid-bite hearing the word _together_ , instead freezing in place for a second and swallowing the mouthful down with a bit of trouble. “Yes,” he responds simply. There's no point in lying, but he wouldn't delve deeper than that.

“I see. The Margrave didn’t seem pleased, though I can’t say I blame Sylvain for travelling separately.” Dimitri comments thoughtfully and he takes a bite of food.

Felix grunts in response, refusing to touch the subject further.

* * *

He puts up with the dance following dinner for a time that Felix deems long enough before stepping outside into the night air for a break. He stands on one of the balconies a floor above ground level, overlooking the training yard and staring at the rack of training equipment. Felix seriously considers if he should do it or not.

Before he gets to make a decision, a voice speaks from behind him. “You’re thinking about training right now, aren’t you?”

He recognizes it instantly and turns to Ingrid. “It would be more entertaining than dealing with that,” he states, gesturing back towards the dance inside.

“Hmph,” Ingrid sounds quietly, walking up to the balcony railing and peering at the weapons like Felix was moments ago. He expects a scolding or even a light punch, but Ingrid reaches down for her ankles and removes her formal shoes quickly. Felix looks down and then back up at her with a look of confusion. Ingrid says nothing, quickly removing her earrings and dropping them into her shoes. She takes steps back and hikes up her dress, then runs towards the balcony at full speed.

Felix moves out of the way, his eyes wide. “What are you-“ Felix starts.

But she doesn’t stop or answer, letting one of her hands rest on the railing for balance while she hurdles herself over the railing and to the ground. She sticks the landing in a crouched position, springing back up and grinning up at Felix with her hands on her hips.

He stares at her silently for a second, then shakes his head and follows suite, jumping to the ground.

“This seems very unlike you,” Felix comments as Ingrid grabs two practice swords and throws one his way. He catches it with ease.

The blonde shrugs, stopping a few feet in front of him with her sword held in one hand at her side. “Sometimes we have to have some fun, right?” She asks.

Felix finds himself smiling, unable to deny it. “Yes, I guess your right.”

Ingrid matches the expression, gripping her sword with two hands and raising it in front of herself. “At your ready.”

* * *

“I’m sure I saw Ingrid step outside earlier. Maybe her and Felix needed some fresh air.”

“You give them too much credit Dorothea. They both hate dances,” Sylvain replies simply, walking around the corner of the large balcony. “I bet the two of them wouldn’t come back if we didn’t go looking for them.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Aw, and I really thought my Ingrid was having a good time too,” the brunette mentions a little sullenly.

Sylvain pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t be upset, they’ve always been like-“ he cuts himself off, stopping and turning his head in the opposite direction to listen for a second.

Dorothea stops a few steps after he does, looking at Sylvain and preparing to question him when she hears the sound too. “What is that?” She asks.

A look of realization comes to Sylvain’s face and he inhales with a roll of his eyes, starting towards the sound with a smile. “I should have known. Come on, let’s go get ‘em.”

* * *

Felix and Ingrid look up from their sparring at the sound of someone yelling from the balcony. Felix’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees Sylvain, standing with Dorothea at his side. Dorothea is holding Ingrid’s shoes in her hand, looking a little perplexed.

“My, my. Y’know, I expect this kind of behaviour from Felix, but you Ingrid?” Sylvain asks, crossing his arms and shaking his head in fake-disappointment. “Well, I am just shocked.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes, holding her hand out to take Felix’s sword and put them away. “When did you become so strict Sylvain?” She taunts back. “I’m half surprised I didn’t walk out to see you wooing some poor woman earlier.”

Felix tries not to let the sudden annoyance show though his demeanor, simply remaining silent and looking elsewhere as Sylvain complains that he’s not like that. Him and Ingrid make their way back inside, walking up a set of stairs to meet back up with Dorothea and Sylvain.

As soon as she lays her eyes on Ingrid up close, Dorothea’s mouth falls open. “Oh, Ingrid. Your feet are filthy and your dress is torn!” She flusters about, walking forward and kneeling down to examine the fabric.

“Dorothea, please,” Ingrid stutters, waving her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll probably never wear this dress again. Plus, I got this from knocking a win off Felix,” she adds with a sly grin his way.

Felix rolls his eyes while Dorothea continues to fuss. “No, no. It just won’t do! Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.” She urges, standing back up and gathering Ingrid’s shoes and earrings.

“And you can come with me,” Sylvain chimes in, taking a hold of Felix’s hand and starting to walk back in the direction they came from. “You owe me a dance.”

“I’m done dancing for the night. Ingrid already stepped on my feet enough earlier,” Felix declines, putting resistance against Sylvain and slipping out of his grasp while Ingrid shoots him a look and accepts Dorothea’s invitation, the two walking arm-in-arm ahead of them.

“Nu-uh. You promised me one!” Sylvain fights back, stepping forward to grab Felix’s hand again.

Felix gets embarrassed quickly and scowls to offset it as he’s practically dragged along. “If you don’t let go of me I’ll-“ he starts.

“Oh hush up Felix,” Dorothea interrupts, turning her head around to wink at them. She looks so smug, like she knows something and it annoys Felix. “If you promise a man to dance, you can’t go back on it. It’s rude.”

Felix musters up a vicious glare at her and keeps his lips tightly shut.

* * *

“Your stiff, Felix. Relax a bit, would you?”

“I’m _trying_ ,” he grits out lowly.

“Look at me,” Sylvain orders gently.

Felix doesn’t want to, but of course he does it anyway because he always listens to Sylvain, even more so this past week. Sylvain’s eyes appear to get warmer when they lock with one another and his thumb strokes the skin of Felix’s hand clasped in his own.

“Do you really hate dancing this much?” Sylvain asks.

Felix shakes his head slightly. Dancing with Sylvain isn't the problem. It's one thing that’s sticking out. “Your father keeps staring at us.” He comments.

Sylvain doesn’t check to verify, probably already knowing that. “I bet if I kissed you right now, he’d look away.”

“And you’d get a punch to the throat,” Felix warns with an edge in his tone.

Sylvain’s hand on his waist tightens a bit and his smiles grows. “I know, I’m only teasing. Partly,” he adds with a wink. Without even realizing, Felix settles into his touch and even comes a bit closer to Sylvain. 

“Try not to worry about him. He’s mad that I’m making my own decisions regardless of his wants,” Sylvain explains.

Felix’s eyes widen. “You told him?” He asks in surprise, even though he already was fairly sure. It's still shocking to hear.

Sylvain’s thumb strokes his hand again. “Enough to put the lines together. He’s gotta find out sooner or later.”

Felix takes the words in for a minute, staring over Sylvain’s shoulder blankly. “And what did he say?”

“That’s not important right now. Let’s enjoy ourselves here, yea?” Sylvain asks.

And while Felix knows it’s a way to get out of explaining or to imply his father did not have anything good to say, he accepts the answer for now and ignores Margrave Gautier’s heated stares from across the room like Sylvain suggested. Instead, he focuses on Sylvain’s hazelnut eyes filled with joy and allows a smile to tug on his lips in return.

After their dance, Sylvain whispers to Felix that if he wants to tap out for the night, he’d follow Felix to his room shortly after. Felix gives him another warning glare, but doesn’t actually protest to the suggestion. Sylvain squeezes his hand gently before letting go and slipping back into the large group of people still in full swing, looking for someone to chat with for the time being. Felix exhales quietly, beginning to walk towards the large doors leading further into the castle.

* * *

Ingrid has one of her feet propped up on the side of the wooden bath in Dorothea's guest room, washing off the dirt with a handcloth that Dorothea grabbed for her. The brunette expressed earlier her surprise with the size of the room, even more so that she got her own private bathing room attached to it.

“Something’s bugging me,” Ingrid starts, rinsing the cloth off in a nearby bucket and squeezing the excess water off. “About Sylvain,” she adds.

Dorothea is leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hm, what is it?”

“I think he’s been having issues with his father…” she trails off, switching to prop her other foot up and wash it off.

Dorothea watches Ingrid for a moment, before dropping her arms and stepping forward. She readjusts the skirt of Ingrid’s dress that slid back down to her ankle and holds the fabric out of the way for her. Ingrid smiles in thanks, continuing to wash herself.

“I think you’ve mentioned they’ve never had a good relationship, right?” Dorothea asks.

Ingrid nods. “Yes, but normally they keep their problems hidden well. It seems a lot more noticeable this time.”

“Hm, I wonder if it’s got anything to do with Felix.” The brunette ponders aloud.

Ingrid pauses, her eyes scanning Dorothea’s, which are up at the ceiling in thought. “What do you mean?”

Dorothea huffs a quick laugh. “Oh, Ingrid. You have never been good at recognizing these things,” she alludes, smiling at the blonde.

Ingrid feels a bit taken back. “I’m still not understanding here,” she points out a little frustratedly.

Dorothea takes the cloth from her and starts wiping away spots Ingrid missed. "I'm not sure how to put it sweetie, but I think those two might be together."

After the brunette speaks, Ingrid stares at her a second or two. "Together?" She asks.

Dorothea hums. "Yea, romantically."

Ingrid breaks out into a bellowing laugh, throwing her head back and absolutely losing it. It takes awhile to regain herself and when she finally does, she thinks about what Dorothea just said and falls into a fit of laughter again. She attempts to apologize to Dorothea while wiping a tear away. The brunette is simply shaking her head back and forth with a smile.

"You say some funny things Dorothea," Ingrid muses, giggling again.

Dorothea shrugs, finishing cleaning the dirt from Ingrid before tossing the cloth into the bucket with a plopping sound. “It’s none of our business either way. Now come on, let’s get back to the party. I don’t believe we’ve shared a dance tonight, which seems hardly fair,” she says warmly.

Ingrid feels herself blushing as she often does around Dorothea and her straightforwardness, agreeing nonetheless and putting her shoes back on so they can head back to the dance. There’s no one else in the hall after they exit Dorothea's guest room and Ingrid feels Dorothea slipping a hand into her own as they walk side-by-side. 

“I’ve missed you these past weeks Ingrid,” Dorothea says to her. "Being with you tonight makes me realize it even more."

Ingrid blinks, staring at their hands joined loosely and up to Dorothea, who looks straight ahead with a smile on her face.

Her heart beats in loud thumps against her chest and Ingrid looks ahead of herself for a couple seconds. Then she looks at Dorothea again and halts in place, watching the brunette do the same but giving her a questioning glance. Ingrid doesn’t say anything, simply starting to the side of the hall and pulling Dorothea gently along until they’re behind one of the many tall, wide pillars. She lets go of Dorothea's hand and then both of her own rest on the sides of her face before Ingrid leans forward to kiss Dorothea.

“I missed you too,” Ingrid nearly whispers against her lips.

She feels Dorothea’s warm hands resting on her waist gently, tugging her even closer and Ingrid inhales through her noise, obliging until their bodies are pressed together. The continue to stand like that, sharing secret kisses with another until the sound of a door opening nearby splits them apart, both heads turning in the same direction down the hall. Ingrid presses them tightly behind the pillar to remain hidden.

“Can you see who it is?” Dorothea whispers to her. Ingrid can feel her steady heartbeat pounding through her clothes, matching her own.

Ingrid leans out just a tad, seeing that it’s someone coming from the entrance to the guest corridor. She furrows her eyebrows. “It’s Felix,” she whispers back.

Dorothea exhales. “Well, that’s not so bad-“ she starts, but falls silent when the door opens a second time. The two of them share a look before listening intently and trying to remain hidden. Ingrid can’t see who the second person is.

“So you finally decided to do more than glare at me from across a room?” Felix starts, a hand coming to his hip.

“Felix, or should I say Lord Fraldarius,” a man comments. Ingrid recognizes it to be the Margrave’s voice. “My apologies. It’s going to take some time for me to get used to addressing you in such a way.”

Felix doesn’t hide his displeasure when he responds. “I’m not interested in chatting right now Margrave.”

Dorothea’s eyes widen and her hands press to her mouth in realization, sharing a surprised look with Ingrid.

“Then please, allow me to do the chatting for you,” the man fills in. Ingrid hears him stepping closer, and just barely catches him standing in front of Felix, his hands moving to the front of himself and clasping together. Felix raises his chin slightly, waiting for him to continue. Ingrid wants to tell him to ignore the man and just head back to his room, but she’s not about to blow their cover.

“I learned of my son’s absence two days after it happened. There was no note, or anyone at the castle who witnessed him leave for that matter. You can imagine how worried I was to learn that he was missing.”

Ingrid knits her eyebrows together, staring at Dorothea who is also peeking around the pillar to observe the two men. Sylvain went missing? Is this why Sylvain and the Margrave didn’t come to the coronation together?

“And when one of my men reported that he was seen in Fraldarius territory, I felt a bit more at ease. That is until, he was never safely returned to his home,” the Margrave continues. He moves his arms behind his back and starts pacing slowly around the large hall, pausing to look at a painting high on the wall. Ingrid and Dorothea pull back from peering, staring at each other. “There wasn’t even a messenger sent to alert me.” The Margrave says.

“Sylvain chose to leave on his own. I can’t control what he does,” Felix comments back.

The Margrave’s voice is dismissive as he responds. “Oh Felix, you influence his choice more than you could know,” he retorts. “And it’s why I’ve come to talk to you.”

“Get on with it before I leave,” Felix orders.

“Your tongue is still sharp as ever I see,” Margrave Gautier replies flatly. There are more footsteps shuffling and Ingrid assumes the man is turning back to Felix. She peaks out again cautiously. “I’ll make this clear as day boy. It would be in yours and Sylvain’s best interest to remain apart so Sylvain can return home.”

“Don’t presume to know what’s best for me, let alone Sylvain,” Felix responds. Ingrid sees his fists clenching at his sides.

The Margrave’s mouth curls up to the side tauntingly. “I know you’ve got a sensible head on your shoulders.”

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Felix bites back, his voice rising.

“Let me speak, boy,” The Margrave returns even fiercer. Ingrid feels Dorothea flinch from the outburst and gives her a sympathetic look.

“Sylvain is the most important part of Gautier’s future. He is the only one capable of keeping our lands safe from Sreng and maintaining order with the Lance of Ruin. For all the skill my son carries in fighting, he lacks in wit. I have been patient with him for too long while he runs off doing goddess knows what. He does not understand the importance of his duties as the future of our house.

“But you do, Lord Fraldarius. You understand that fulfilling selfish desires does not take care of your people. It doesn’t feed them, or see that they’re protected. Sylvain is destined to serve his land and running away from his responsibilities will not alleviate him of his intended path. I fear only you can make him see this.”

There’s a long, tense silence between them after the man speaks. Ingrid watches with a pit in her stomach, feeling rather lost.

“Is that everything?” Felix asks bitterly. Ingrid is surprised with this. She’s never known Felix to hold back, expecting him to have returned just as much force back in the man’s face.

The Margrave takes a few more seconds to size Felix up before nodding. “It is. I pray you heed my words,” he finishes, turning away and heading back towards the direction of the party. Felix continues to stare at him with an expression Ingrid can only assume is furious. Once the older man is passed the doors and out of sight, Felix turns around abruptly and stalks back to his guest room. Dorothea and Ingrid remain hidden until the guest door opens and slams behind itself, the brunette wincing at the sound.

“Come on,” Dorothea says, taking hold of Ingrid’s wrist and steering off back to the dance. “We have to find Sylvain.”

* * *

Knocking comes to his door after Felix is changed out of his formal clothes and into loose trousers and a shirt. He glances at the door from where he stands for a moment before returning to overlook the balcony out onto the city buildings. He can hear faint music coming from the party if he really listens carefully.

Felix debates ignoring the knocking and waiting for it to die out, but the clicking of his door opening signals that he forgot to lock it in the first place and he looks back over his shoulder with an annoyed expression, watching Sylvain slip in and close the door behind him. He spots Felix standing outside and from his distance away, Felix can see a funny expression on Sylvain’s face.

He turns around fully when Sylvain strides across the room to him without a word. Sylvain grips his biceps tight when he’s in front of Felix and right after, tilts his head to press a fierce kiss against him. Felix revels in the humming of pleasure that he feels almost instantly when their lips meet.

Sylvain pulls back, staring at Felix with an almost-fearful expression. “What did he say to you?” He asks in a rush.

Felix looks to the side, taken about, He wonders how Sylvain knows already, but doesn't hide the truth. “I’m sure the same lines he uses on you.”

Sylvain’s hand rests on the side of his face and he turns Felix’s gaze back to meet his own. He looks more worried. “Felix- whatever he said, it was just to manipulate you.”

“Even if it was, he still had a point.” Felix responds lowly. He keeps hearing the man’s words- _selfish desires_ , repeating in his mind.

Sylvain lifts his hand off Felix slowly and stares at him with a look of bewilderment. “What? You can’t be serious,” he insists, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

He can’t meet Sylvain gaze, turning back to overlook the city. “I want you to understand this fully. There are people who are depending on-“

“Felix, stop. I can’t hear this coming from you.” Sylvain’s voice carries over his. Felix hears a strain in it.

'Would you just-" Felix pauses and closes his eyes tight, sighing. A small breeze pushes through his hair and he takes a moment to think about what he wants to say. He turns back to Sylvain and notices how worried his eyes look.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do like your father wants me to. This is your life,” he says. Some of the concern in Sylvain’s expression fades away. “But you’re throwing away a lot if you choose to...” Felix swallows dryly. It hurts in his gut, but he has to say it. It's not fair to Sylvain if he doesn't. “Be. With me,” he finishes quietly.

Sylvain shakes his head back and forth, bringing Felix against his chest and resting his chin on his head. “Did you already forget what I said? The only life I want is the one where I’m with you. I’d be losing out on way more if I chose anything otherwise,” he insists, voice a bit shaky.

Felix flushes and wraps his arms around Sylvain in return, resting his forehead against his shoulder. They hold each other for a few moments until Sylvain pulls back to look at him and places a hand against the side of Felix's face. It's funny, Felix thinks to himself. They're been close with another and intimate the entire week they've spent together, but right now he feels something different. Something instinctively telling him that this isn't enough- he needs to be closer to Sylvain. Needs to touch him, needs to feel him.

Sylvain leans down to peck him, but Felix ends up wrapping a hand behind his neck and tangles another in his hair to keep him in place. Sylvain clearly doesn’t have a problem with it, judging by the way his grip on Felix tightens and his kisses become constant. It doesn’t take long for their exchanges to become heated, Felix running his fingers through Sylvain’s hair when the man’s tongue brushes up against his own.

“Did you lock the door?” Felix asks between kisses.

Sylvain gives a humming of agreement, rotating their stance with lips still locked and steering them towards the bed until the back of Felix’s legs push against the mattress. He stumbles on his back and gives a sound of surprise. Sylvain crawls on all fours atop of him right after, still kissing Felix like his life depends on it. Felix can’t help the lightheaded feeling swimming across his mind with each brush of their lips together. Something about the way Sylvain's fingers rest against his jawline and the way he moans into their kisses blooms nothing but fervent lust inside Felix almost instantly.

Felix has also learned a lot of new things about himself lately. Like that his already thin patience becomes nonexistent when Sylvain decides to toy with him by placing light kisses along his neck. He can tell the redhead is enjoying himself when Felix gasps as his lips meet a sensitive spot on his skin, because Sylvain edges him further by sucking gently in the same place. His hands balled in Sylvain’s formal jacket are pulling tight and a low sound comes from him at the shiver coursing down his body. He breathes quietly, heart racing beneath his chest as Sylvain continues to tease him before Felix finally demands him to hurry up.

To his satisfaction Sylvain obliges, sliding a hand up Felix’s shirt to push the fabric up his abdomen. Felix sits up a bit so the redhead can remove it and he hears the sound of the fabric dropping to the ground next to their bed. Sylvain’s lips are back on his, pushing them back into the bed. They make quick work of each other’s clothes and after Sylvain removes the last of his garments, Felix grabs the man’s hips, bringing him atop of his naked body so he can kiss him again.

The skin on skin contact is electrifying, easing a moan from Felix as Sylvain’s hands fumble to remove the leather band holding his hair back. Once his hair is free and falling around him, Sylvain pulls back to observe him. Felix gets embarrassed and looks away, but comes back to Sylvain’s lidded gaze when the redhead picks up his hand and kisses his fingers.

He threads his fingers into Felix’s hand and does the same to the other, lightly pinning him down and beginning to trail kisses down his chest. Felix’s head sinks into the pillow and he releases a drawn-out breath, hips twitching when Sylvain lips reach his pelvis. The redhead shuffles back on the bed, releasing Felix’s hands and moving to grab the back of his knees so he can raise his legs over his hips.

A mix between a hiss and a moan comes from Felix when Sylvain’s mouth lowers down on him seconds after. He spares a glance down at Sylvain kissing and licking his length, then the redhead moves further down to run his tongue over Felix’s scrotum and to his entrance. He shudders in delight at the feeling, even more so as a hand is released from behind his knee to grip his length and massaging him. It doesn’t take long before the pleasure starts to peak. Sylvain and him both know this from recent experience, but he refuses to let it end quickly and grabs Sylvain by his hair, pulling the man’s mouth off of his erection with a soft popping noise.

“Something wrong?” Sylvain asks knowingly, turning his head to the side to nibble at the flesh of Felix’s thigh.

Felix sits up and pulls Sylvain’s head towards him, practically dragging the man into a rough kiss. Their teeth bump but Felix doesn’t care in the slightest, feeling like he’s not getting enough. He glares with no real heat in it, telling Sylvain to finger him.

And maybe Sylvain wasn’t expecting the lewd words because his pupils seem to grow larger in the dark room and he’s still for a moment. But he recovers swiftly, basically tackling Felix down to the bed and getting to work as Felix requested right away. When he’s prepped and Sylvain’s gotten his full share of teasing, Felix spends some time with his head between Sylvain’s legs, drinking up the sounds he makes just as he would a glass of wine.

And when Sylvain is moaning loud enough for Felix to tell him to be quiet, his crawls back on top of the man and raises himself overtop of Sylvain's hips. Felix looks over his shoulder, grabbing Sylvain’s length and lowering himself down onto it slowly. A sharp gasp escapes Sylvain and Felix whines quietly, taking him in at once and rocking his hips slowly. Sylvain moans out his name and grabs Felix's erection, flicking his wrist lazily.

They build up a steady pace together, Felix rolling his hips and Sylvain matching the movement with upward thrusts. Felix has his hands resting on Sylvain’s chest as he rides him, caught up in the immense feeling of pleasure. Nothing else seems to matter in the moment other than the two of them, holding each other and gasping for air like there’s not enough in the room. Sylvain moans that he’s not going to last a lot longer and Felix shuts his eyes tightly after hearing the words, his own heat inside threatening the same.

Felix slides a hand behind Sylvain’s neck and lowers down to kiss him. The kisses that were once sensual and composed are nothing but erratic and fierce now. They’re not short on enjoyable, in fact maybe just as much considering Felix is about to lose himself at any point now. His lips pull away from Sylvain and remain parted while his eyes shut tight and his forehead presses against Sylvain’s. With a silent cry and the jerking of his hips, Felix finishes atop of Sylvain like that, slowly riding out his orgasm while Sylvain achieves his own just moments later. The room is filled with the sounds of their gasping and Felix rests on Sylvain's chest for a bit before easing himself out. Sylvain takes care of the cleanup and when he returns to the bed after discarding the used towel, Felix gives him a look.

"You're not staying in my room tonight," he says.

Sylvain stares at him with disbelief. "You wouldn't let me last night either!" He protests.

Felix's lips press together. "We've spent the last week sharing a bed together. You survived sleeping alone last night, you'll live a second."

Sylvain tilts his head back, groaning. "So cold, Felix. Can't I at least have some cuddles before I leave?" He asks, giving him a dramatic pout.

Felix stares at him, expression unchanged for a few seconds before releasing a sigh and gesturing for Sylvain to come onto the bed. Sylvain practically springs atop of him, wrapping his arms around Felix's middle and resting the side of his head on his chest. Sylvain's body is warm and comfortable against his own. Felix raises a hand and runs his fingernails over Sylvain's scalp gently, combing through his thick, red locks. He hears a small hum of satisfaction from beneath him and so Felix continues to scratch his head lightly until it becomes routine. He gets comfy like this and without realizing it, feels exhaustion overcoming him; his eyelids get heavier and his hand rests lightly on Sylvain's head.

And Sylvain, ever the clever one who was hoping this would happen, grins and gives Felix's chest a light kiss before exhaling quietly and allowing himself to fall asleep.

One night on his own was enough, if you ask him.

* * *

The next morning, Felix punches him in the arm and kicks him off the bed with no hesitation. But when they ride back home to Fraldarius territory together after saying their temporary goodbyes to everyone, he decides that he's glad Sylvain stayed with him.

Or, maybe grateful is the right word.


End file.
